


Moonlight Serenade

by kybusan



Category: Bleach
Genre: Explicit Language, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Making Out, Memories, Talking, gigai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 05:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14610543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kybusan/pseuds/kybusan
Summary: «Do... Hollows have .... Sex?»Grimmjow twitched at his side. Then he cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it again. His almost dreamy expression changed to a nonchalantly one, and he shrugged.«The suicidal one’s, maybe? But I wouldn’t recommend it, it’s too much...»«... trust involved?», Ichigo asked.Grimmjow grinned and shook his head in disbelief.«Sort of a stupid idea to offer your most vulnerable parts to someone who easily could slice you apart and devour you!»





	Moonlight Serenade

It was a warm and mild summer night, an almost full moon in a starlit night sky shone upon a romantically arranged garden. Wild flowers, brimming colours, trees and bushes adorned a white-gravelled, meticulously shaped path, which carried the young man walking along it further away from the old guesthouse on the brink of that manmade oasis.

Ichigo Kurosaki had no eye for the serene beauty around him. He felt tired, exhausted and maybe a little bit drunk. It had never been his wish to celebrate his 21. birthday with a ton of guests, but how could he say no to Orihime, no to Yuzu? He still wondered how the two girls had managed to invite probably every goddamn soul he had met so far. Everyone he knew had gathered some hours ago at the old Ryokan on the outskirts of Karakura. And they were still around, drinking and having a good time. It wasn’t that Ichigo didn’t want them to enjoy themselves, to celebrate his anniversary together with his friends and his family. But ever since his mother had died, he wasn’t that keen on celebrating the day of his birth. The other thing that had made him sneak from his birthday-party were all the questions. Questions about his plans for the future, questions about his, recently, very boring and dull love-life.

Deeply lost in his thoughts, Ichigo had reached a small glade, the trees surrounding it very old. The black and unmoving water of a small pond reflected the moon like an enchanted mirror from an ancient time. And, thankfully, it was far away enough from the party. Far away from all the attention. He still could hear his guests, but the noise was more like a very distant humming. An almost nice tone to fall asleep by. He sat down under a tree and leaned back. The trunk in his back felt solid, warm, and after some nestling, he found a spot that was comfortable enough to rest for some minutes. A deep breath later he closed his eyes, just to open them again seconds later when he felt a spiritual pressure approaching his refuge.

Even though it wasn’t as sharp and untamed as usual, he would recognise this wild and chaotic aggression anywhere. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to handle a pissed off Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez; therefore he crouched deeper into the shadow of the tree and shielded his own spiritual pressure as good as possible. He was right on time because seconds later, the tall frame of the former Sexta stepped into the light of the moon.

It seemed as if Grimmjow didn’t pick up his reiatsu, he more or less casually walked straight up to the embankment of the pond. Ichigo wondered if this odd behaviour was due to the Gigai Grimmjow wore. It turned out, Yuzu and Orihime had thought about everything for his birthday-party. With the help of Urahara, they had provided every non-human guest with an exact replica. Well, safe for the masks and holes of course.

The Substitute Soul Reaper had been surprised to see Grimmjow ushered to his party by an overwhelmingly joyful Neliel. In a Gigai above all. He remembered him once cursing about Gigais and how they felt like a way too short leash. Or a too tight, soaked suit. But damn, did he look good! He hadn’t changed that much. Of course not, how was an unliving creature supposed to change. He still looked like the day they first met: tall, broad shoulders, freaking long legs. His unruly blue hair still singled him out, as well as the fact that he was probably the only one who had chosen to wear a more casual style of clothing. Black boots, black jeans and an old, washed out shirt. Ichigo wasn’t sure, Grimmjow even knew what kind of music that band shirt represented. He had probably just liked the phrase that matched his personality perfectly: Vulgar Display of Power. The mocking tease had been on Ichigo’s lips but died in his throat when Grimmjow passed the birthday-boy and viciously snarled at him. Raising an eyebrow, he had turned to face Neliel, who only had grinned at him and had indicated - with rolling eyes and an awful impression of the catlike Arrancar - that he had lost a bet. And then his other guests had washed over him like a storm tide, a friendly and warm and welcomed one, but, nevertheless, a storm tide.

He hadn’t had the time to catch up with Grimmjow and to thank him – at least – for his presence. Of course, the blue-haired bastard hadn’t thought about a present. By the time his guests all had been feed, settled and occupied with other things than to congratulate the birthday-boy, the Sexta’s mood seemed to be downright murderous, and Ichigo thought it wiser, to not disturb the Arrancar with nonsense. Anyway, a few minutes later, after Matsumoto had pushed her overwhelming rack into Uryuu’s face, he took the opportunity and left his party in a temper that probably matched Grimmjow’s.

A little movement caught Ichigo’s attention, and he focused back on the former Espada. Grimmjow slowly kneeled down and started to nestle with the laces of his footwear. He slipped out of the heavy boots and tossed them carelessly aside. Then followed the black socks. Ichigo’s eyes got wider and wider, that idiot wasn’t about to take a midnight bath in a pond that at its deepest point would only reach to his Gigai’s belly button, wasn’t he? But then the blue-haired man started to roll up the hem of his trousers and, when he was done with it, straightened his back again, laid his head back, closed his eyes and deeply sighed.

Fascinated Ichigo stared at the scene in front of him. When Grimmjow made some steps towards the water, Ichigo leaned further to get a better look. What was that idiot doing? The light of the moon, undisturbed by any clouds, shone as bright as the sun itself upon a scene Ichigo was somehow embarrassed to watch, yet couldn’t tear his eyes from it. The Espada of destruction stood at the sandy bank, feet and toes kneading the wet ground beneath him and watching the dark mass squeezing up between his toes. His lips pulled into a genuine smile, yet, the bright blue eyes showed an emotion achingly near sadness.

«Don’t think I haven’t noticed you! You’re a fucking failure when it comes to hide your reiatsu, Shinigami,» Grimmjow said suddenly without turning his gaze from the ground.

Ichigo almost jumped to his feet, then the horror stroke. Shit, Jaegerjaquez had noticed him, maybe right from the start. Was he playing kind of a sick game? Involuntarily his hand dived into the back-pocket of his jeans, clenched around the wooden combat-pass that would free his Shinigami-form from his human body.

«Fucking unfair, isn’t it, Shinigami?», Grimmjow asked in a nonchalant tone, his eyes now concentrated on the mirror-like surface of the water. He had raised his right hand, and around his wrist, Ichigo could see a leathery cuff bracelet. The pale white light of the moon was refracted by a z-shaped metal embedded into the black leather, and the single, blue, jewel-like stone set on one end of the metal formed like a flash, glimmered as if it was alive.

Urahara had taken some measures to prevent unfortunate accidents. After all, the party guests consisted of both humans and non-humans. The stylish accessory around Grimmjow’s wrist worked as some kind of limiter. As long as he stayed in Karakura, inside that Gigai, he wasn’t able to strip the artificial skin off that easily. To be fair, the Soul Reapers too were more or less forced to use the same kind of Gigai. Imagine Kenpachi and Grimmjow butt heads and stripe off their Gigais to return to their actual soul form and wreak havoc. With a pained expression on his face, Ichigo let go of his combat-pass and stood up, a low groan escaping his lips.

«Stop calling me that,» Ichigo demanded while closing the distance between them cautiously.

«Calling you what?», Grimmjow asked when Ichigo reached his side.

«Shinigami. I’ve got a name, and you know it,» Ichigo sighed annoyed, his eyes too glued to the unmoving black mirror of the water.

«Strawberry? Naa, tasted that fruit and its sweetness is nothing like yours,» Grimmjow answered with a sly grin on his face. Turning around to face the other he barely could hide his amusement.

«Once and for all, it's not …». Ichigo stopped his ranting, irritated. «Wait, when did you eat strawberries? Hell no! Let me rephrase that, how do you know what I taste?»

Grimmjow cocked his head to one side and eyed the other from head to toe as if he saw him for the first time. To be honest, it was probably the first time he used his eyes to look at the Soul Reaper rather than feel his spiritual pressure. Ichigo had changed in the last years. Not much, but there were differences. The spiky mess he called hair still showed off that bright orange colour which somehow was an insult to the eyes. But he wore it a bit longer; the bangs tried to cover eyes which certainly had seen too much for a 21-year-old boy. His face had gotten a bit edgier, and the usual deep scowl made it look harder. He had gained some more muscles, yet his figure still was lither and leaner than Grimmjow’s.

«Shouldn’t you be, you know,» the Sexta raised his hand and gestured in the direction of the distant noise coming from the ryokan, «back there and do silly human things?»

«Naa, they’re getting drunk. They won’t miss me,» Ichigo answered, facing the other. He too slightly crocked his head and pointed his chin towards the muddy and naked feet of the Espada. «Do I have to worry about something? Are you going to vibrate and then explode in a blue cloud of steam or something?»

«Why? Are Urahara’s Gigais known to do that?», Grimmjow asked back, not certain the other was only joking. Knowing Urahara, or at least his twisted sick mind, he almost thought it a possibility. A slim possibility, but you never knew what the creepy Ex-Soul-Reaper would come up with. His s eyes narrowed down on the orange haired man at his side, deep furrows appeared right above the bridge of his nose.

Ichigo almost could catch the tension coming from the other. He relaxed, not wanting to brawl with the former Espada. Gigai or not, Grimmjow surely knew how to use those muscles, it wasn’t that the limiter would hinder him to attack or defend. And Grimmjow always had been the more experienced hand-to-hand fighter, which was blatantly obvious in his Ressureccion.

«No, I’m only joking. It’s just,» pointing at naked, dirty feet he concluded, «I would have expected Nell to walk barefoot, not you.»

«Tsk, ever tried to fight and run in heavy boots? It’s a pain in the ass!», Grimmjow mumbled and sat down.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the answer he got. It wasn’t so much what was said, more the tone it was said in. That did not sound like Grimmjow. The content, sure, that was Grimmjow through and through. But Ichigo couldn’t remember one single occasion he had heard the other mumble. Angry screaming, annoyed shouting, insulting yelling, inappropriate cursing — that was the Sexta. But mumbling, that was unusual.

«You tell me!», Ichigo countered. «Ever tried to have a good grip in sandals made from straw? That’s the real pain. You’ll slip every now and then when it is a tiny little bit rainy. And,», sitting down himself, «I guarantee you, even if there is one single pointy and sharp gravel for miles, you trample on it!»

Grimmjow’s laughter rumbled through the night and caused the other to grin. After some minutes of an almost peaceful and relaxing silence, the former Espada sighed and focused on his feet again. He wiggled his toes and a sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips, eyes longing.

«It’s just... I remembered something from the past.»

Grimmjow’s whisper was almost too low to be understood. It took Ichigo some seconds to get the meaning behind the words, but then he understood. Nel always was curious like a child, wondered about everything with endless amazement. It always looked like she was relearning the way of the living, tried to remember her past and to integrate her new found knowledge into her afterlife.

The Sexta on the other hand always seemed unfazed by whatever he encountered in the human world. As if he either knew it already or found it unworthy to even take a second look at it. But it seemed, the former Espadas were much more alike then one could see by a first impression.

«What do you remember then?», Ichigo asked genuinely curious about what it was that Grimmjow made act like a preschooler.

«Sand under my paws. Single grains, that stick between toes, plates of armour and other places I couldn’t reach, no matter how hard I tried,» Grimmjow growled, not wanting to give away his reasons right away.

He was greeted with big brown eyes, speaking of confusion when he lost interest in his dirty feet and turned his gaze upon the young man at his side. Grimmjow’s lips twitched, but he suppressed the urge to let them split into a wide grin.

«Ah... but that’s not all, isn’t it?», Ichigo insisted. «I mean, it looked as if you remembered something else.» Pointing his finger at Grimmjow’s grimy toes, Ichigo argued with a teasing grin, «I haven’t seen a cat do such a thing!»

«Big cat! And what makes you the cat expert?», Grimmjow snapped.

When he had become an Adjuchas by devouring the Menos Grande he was part of from the inside out, he somehow had chosen the catlike form. Probably because he always had admired their hunting skills. Not the cuddly little cat the humans called pet, but the fierce and elegant hunter like a Jaguar. And he had been a feared killer. Smaller than most of his fellow Adjuchas he still had an upper hand. He was faster and stronger than most of the others. His bite had been more precise and deadlier than what the others had to offer. After he’d become an Arrancar and walked on two feet instead of four paws, he always had cherished those memories of hunting and killing prey in the desert. In fact, those were truly his memories. Because reaching the next level of a hollow-evolution had several results. One: no fear of regression. Two: A strength beyond what he’d ever imagined. Third: Flashbacks. Flickering memories from past lives, shattered pieces of an existence he long ago had put aside. What good was it to remember a miserable, finite existence anyway? And most of the time he even wasn’t sure those remnant fragments were his own. It drove him fucking mad.

«You know what freaks me out the most about those Gigais? It’s not the fact my senses are dulled to a mere human basic. It’s not the fact that my power is restricted. I can adapt, I proved that more than anyone else I know.»

Ichigo leaned back and gave away the impression of watching the water in front of him. But, in the corner of his eyes, he glanced at the former Espada, surprised about his change from mildly annoyed to sulking. He never thought of Grimmjow as the sulking type. A man of action, careless, to an unhealthy degree reckless, yes, in his eyes, that described Grimmjow the best. There were even times he envied him for that carelessness. Not knowing what to do, Ichigo simply hummed affirmatively.

«Urahara’s Gigais are so damn near the real thing!» Grimmjow growled, grabbing a pebble from the ground and throwing it into the water.

«Huu... isn’t that a good thing?», Ichigo asked startled. «After all, you look damn goo.. cool. Ahm, at least that’s what I heard earlier.»

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. Was the idiot beside him stuttering? But then he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms. Raising one leg, he laid his arm on the knee and propped himself on his left hand.

«Sure as hell I look good. No way I would drag my sorry ass around in a Gigai that’s not as good looking as I’m used to be»

Again, the words spilled at Ichigo sounded like Grimmjow, only the tone was not matching.

«So, the squeezing mud through your toes, it’s a memory from your human life, isn’t it? Haven’t seen water in Hueco Mundo, desert and all...»

Grimmjow twitched and slowly turned his head to face Ichigo. Wide-eyed he stared at the Substitute Soul Reaper, his question died on his lips when he was greeted by a sad smile.

Was it regret he could read in Grimmjow’s eyes? Ichigo wasn’t sure, and as fast as that emotion had occurred, it vanished again. The former Sexta huffed a single, blue strand from his view, then rolled his shoulders.

«Not necessary _my_ human life. It’s probably ... someone else’s memory,» he grumbled into the night.

Again, the younger one only hummed affirmative, and Grimmjow wondered if Ichigo had similar flashbacks thanks to his hollow side. Or was that sad expression a sign of pity?

«I’m taking a wild guess here, but could it be the flashbacks are more intense when you’re in a Gigai? Your Hierro doesn’t work as good as a filter when you are in a form that is as close as possible to the real thing?»

Grimmjow’s heartbeat jumped, the muscles of the Gigai involuntary twitched and flexed, his right hand flexed into a fist. How could the idiot know such a thing? And was it sweat he could feel rinsing down the artificial chest? Sure as hell the throbbing, dull pain pulsating from his temples to the back of the head was a sign of a starting headache. He didn’t even recognise that a hand was placed on his shoulder. Only when the fingers slightly squeezed the tense muscles, he became aware that Ichigo was touching him.

That hand, warm, firm yet tender and so much alive – that simple touch, it caused another flashback. One that caused a turmoil right where his hollow-hole should be. One that let his blood rush through his veins. One that was pumping adrenaline through his whole system. One that caused goose-bumps on that oversensitive artificial skin. One that wasn’t bad at all, but somehow made him anxious, even terrified. Therefore he cleared his throat and jerked away.

«Lets take another guess, you just had another flashback, don’t you?»

It was almost frightening how dead-on the Soul Reaper at his side was. Grimmjow growled lowly and then shook his head slightly. The sensations caused by the memory still rumbled through his system, and he wondered what it was that made him so fucking fidgety. Thin brows furrowed, a head tilted to the side, eyes got shut.

«Ah, fucking on the beach! How could I forgot about that!»

Thank to all gods, the blue-haired idiot beside him had his eyes closed. Grimmjow’s almost expectantly shouted eureka-moment had coloured Ichigo’s face in a crimson red and he had to take a deep breath. Or two. How on earth did he know? Hell, even Ichigo himself wasn’t a hundred percent sure that ...

«Oi, everything alright? You look as if you’re about to, I dunno, explode?», Grimmjow’s voice reached Ichigo’s ears.

«Sorry, got me on the wrong foot... ahem, sex on the beach, guess that’s a bit overrated, » Ichigo stuttered helplessly.

Unbelieving, sapphire blue eyes searched Ichigo’s face for a sign of a flat-out lie. But there was only a slight pinkish blush and an almost invisible tremble in his hands. Grimmjow wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or fear that made the other tremble. Why the hell would he react like that, they knew each other by now. Therefore there was no need to be nervous, or afraid. And then there was this electrifying spark that jolted his spine up and down by just remembering and set that artificial skin on fire.

«How could that be overrated?», he asked incredulously.

«Sand in places you didn’t even know you have... ,» Ichigo offered as an answer.

Ichigo literally could see how Grimmjow’s body, or at least the Gigai, worked through the memory and he wondered if Hollows had sex too. After all, the urge the reproduce was a primal instinct. But then, hollows weren’t born the usual way, and before he even could stop his mind, the question was spilled. Stuttered.

«Do... Hollows have .... Sex?»

Grimmjow twitched at his side. Then he cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it again. His almost dreamy expression changed to a nonchalantly one, and he shrugged.

«The suicidal one’s, maybe? But I wouldn’t recommend it, it’s too much...»

«... trust involved?», Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow grinned and shook his head in disbelief.

«Sort of a stupid idea to offer your most vulnerable parts to someone who easily could slice you apart and devour you!»

Ichigo again just hummed affirmatively and let his eyes wander over the water in front of them as if he searched for the right words. Grimmjow wondered what was going on that stupid thick-headed skull of the orange haired, but then an idea popped up, and before he could stop himself he spilled the question.

«You’ve got any trust-issues? Or why haven’t you banged healer-boobs yet?»

Ichigo jumped to his feet and shouted angrily: «Inoue! Her name is Inoue! And you damn well know the reason! And by all means, how can you change so fast from not even remembering what sex is like, to such a lewd term? Goddamnit!»

Grimmjow wasn’t surprised by the Soul Reaper’s reaction, after all, that woman had always been his weakest point. What did surprise him though was the frustration the other showed off. A frustration he couldn’t quite understand. Hadn’t he fucked four-eyes until recently? He had no right to be frustrated when he, apparently, had no carnal instincts towards that woman. And then Grimmjow remembered; he had seen those two, Inoue and the last Quincy, and the hug hadn’t looked as if they were just friends.

«Only an idiot like you can lose his boyfriend to the girl who had an unrequited crush on that same idiot for years,» he snickered and raised to his feet as well.

He saw the fist from the corner of his eye, aiming at his temple, and he tried to avoid the impact, but that fucking Gigai just didn’t react as fast as he was used to. The stinging pain swiftly changed to a throbbing, pulsating thing that was adding to his already existing headache. He made a step back, levelled his weight, raised his fists, and had a wide grin on his lips. Oh yes, this was something he could cope with.

The second fist, aiming at his liver, was caught in midair. Fingers wrapped around an almost feeble wrist and twisted it in a sickening manner, while yanking the parts attached to that wrist closer. Years ago that would have been enough to, at least, surprise the other and getting the upper hand. Years ago, though, Ichigo wouldn’t have used the leverage, wouldn’t have used his shoulder to slam into the taller frame.

Two blinks later, Grimmjow was on his back, topped by Ichigo straddling his hips. There was a short, triumphant glimmer in the Substitute's eyes, which vanished the second he realised that the former Espada’s hand still was wrapped around his wrist, still was dragging him down.

Ichigo saw it coming, painfully aware of thin lips widening into a mad grin, painfully aware of blue ice burning down his soul. His forehead crashed into the other’s with an almost metallic sound to it, the pain blinded him for a heartbeat and was nauseating. He slammed his free hand into the ground beside Grimmjow’s head and tried to push himself away. Those lips, seconds ago split into a grin, almost touched his cheek, a warm and moist breath caressed his skin. That in itself would have been arousing, but the idiot under him went so far as to arch his back and grope his ass with his free hand.

Ichigo had more than once fantasised about such a situation, and although his mind screamed at him in terror, he couldn’t hide his physical reactions. Couldn’t mask the trembling of his limbs, couldn’t hold back the moan that was building up, couldn’t stop his blood rushing more southwards. That tiny little part of his mind that tried to rationalise the situation, that tried to teach him that Grimmjow probably just had another flashback and that he shouldn’t take an advantage from it, was pushed aside by the other, not so tiny little part, his overwhelmed mind came up with. What if Grimmjow was playing with him, what if he all too well knew already?

The only reason why Grimmjow had groped the Substitute’s ass and almost had kissed the idiot had been because he’d expected him to be stuck in a limbo of embarrassment and shame. That would have given him an upper hand. At least that was what a small part of his brain tried to convince him of. Yes. That was the only reason. He hadn’t done it because he wanted to feel that spark again. He didn’t yarn to feel how the skin of his Gigai was set ablaze again. Or so his mind tried to convince him.

It wasn’t the first time they had physical contact, were that close. Hell, over the past few years they had caused bruises and broken bones on each other regularly. But Grimmjow couldn’t remember a time he had fought the other in a Gigai, in an almost human body. And he definitely couldn’t remember a time where Ichigo’s reaction had been so obvious. Blatantly obvious, because Ichigo’s hard one pocked his thigh. A smirk split his lips while his groping claw loosened its grip and brushing fingertips danced along the substitute’s side up to his shoulder, along his collarbone to the back of his head were his fingers got hold of a fistful of orange strands. The Sexta wasn’t quite sure why his fingers did what they did, it surprised him maybe more than the other one. It had been an impulse, and he always was keen to follow his impulses rather than to contemplate about the deeper meanings behind it. And, if it would add to the Soul Reaper’s embarrassment, he would enjoy it even more.

Ichigo didn’t dare to move an inch. It was embarrassing enough that he couldn’t control his body’s instinctively behaviours. The mixture of stinging pain and soothing touches had an immediate impact on his blood-rush. No, he didn’t want to squirm under those touches, didn’t want to whimper in pleasure, but when Grimmjow yanked his head back, he couldn’t hold back a breathless moan.

«I honestly don’t know if I should be offended or pleased, Shinigami!», the Sexta growled amused, while his piercing blue eyes searched the Substitute’s face. Half parted lips, closed eyes and a pink blush made the upper one look more vulnerable than he was. But then the orange haired idiot started to grin. When he opened his eyes slowly and glanced down at Grimmjow, the former Espada was captured by an almost unholy golden shimmer in them. And somewhere, deeply buried under all the emotions and memories, his brain decided he wasn’t offended at all.

«Already told ya, I’ve got a name!», bending slowly down, Ichigo’s free hand buried itself in a blue mess of hair, got a good grip and slowly, but steadily pulled the other’s head to one side. «And it’s neither strawberry!»

The Substitute’s lips ghosted over the skin of his dangerously exposed neck, exactly where Santa Theresa’s blade had bitten into his flesh and bones. A shudder rushed through Grimmjow, and he wasn’t sure if it was caused by fear or excitement. His mind was too occupied to understand the emotions that ran through his system; therefore he didn’t realise first that Ichigo softly placed his lips on that throbbing vein running down his bent neck. Only when a tongue was added, licking teasingly along the curved body-part up to his ear, it struck him. Nervousness, he felt nervous. An anticipating nervousness that sent goosebumps all over the artificial skin.

He chuckled lowly, not only because it was somehow silly to be nervous, but more so because it felt tickling. He hadn’t felt such a sensation for decades. His Hierro was almost impenetrable; such a soft touch usually would go unnoticed. But the Gigai’s skin, it was somehow directly linked with his soul-form. Each small touch sent shivers down his spine, electrifying ones that raised his heartbeat, made him breath harder, let his blood rush faster. But the most prominent physical reaction was in his pants. Way too tight pants to be honest. He shifted his hips a bit to get more comfortable, but the friction of the constricting fabric only intensified the unfamiliar feeling.

Ichigo almost forgot how to breathe. Grimmjow was bucking right into him, almost eagerly, and that simple move pumped even more blood into his dick. If Grimmjow continued his bucking, his already low-supplied brain would suffer from an even greater blood-loss. And then his instincts would take control, completely. Not that they weren’t already in charge, but if this would continue, the still sane and rational part of his mind would be wiped out.

His thighs trembled uncontrolled when he backed off and raised his torso. He couldn’t give in to his desires, not with an imbecile who moments ago hadn’t had a clue what sex was about. He let go of blue hair and placed his now free hand on a heavy heaving chest. A hard and muscular chest, skin, muscles and bones that covered an irrationally jumping heart. Ichigo groaned, his fingers clutched together and crumpled up the black fabric of Grimmjow’s shirt in between his digits. Eyes cast down, he inhaled deeply and tried to push away the thought of his fingernails, leaving deep red scratches on that chest he already had marked with a way more bigger scar. The questioning glance from half-lidded blue eyes went unnoticed as he tried to push himself up to stand up. What did not go unnoticed was a sharp, stinging pain caused by fingernails buried deeply into the soft skin right above his hipbones. Even through the layer of clothing, the nails must have drawn blood.

«Fuck! Let go of me!”, Ichigo barked, realising he got even harder from the pain radiating from his waist. It didn’t help that Grimmjow looked like a fucking piece of art.

«No!», Grimmjow’s voice was rough, «I won’t let ya go.» He used the Substitute’s surprise to sit up, wrapped one arm around the trembling idiot to support the extra weight in his lap while the grip on a rolling hip got harder. Again they bumped heads, this time not as hard as before, and Grimmjow closed his eyes. «You can’t start this and then, what’s the word again, cock-block me!». This was just another way to conquer the Substitute Soul Reaper, to break him, to finally be victorious. At least, that was what he tried to convince himself of.

Ichigo groaned, a sound somewhere between annoyance and desperation. He wanted this, probably since the moment, Grimmjow had stepped from the Gargantua into the remains of a shattered Soul Society. Ah hell, perhaps even before that. And he had denied it, maybe for too long now. That wish, that desire, that aching, longing feeling he got for the blue-haired Ex-Espada. It had been a fucking pain, a desperate void dragging down his heart when he had thought the Sexta to be dead. The sorrow he had felt after he had defeated Aizen and searched their last fighting ground for a proof of life from the Sexta, it had been so more devastating than when Uryuu had split with him weeks ago.

He raised a hand and cupped Grimmjow’s cheek, the one where usually his mask would cover his face. It felt as if the Arrancar leaned into this soft touch and Ichigo sighed. With Uryuu, he had never felt so lost yet so clear in his thoughts.

«You can’t do this to me. Moments ago you couldn’t even remember what sex is, and now, now you ... are even into men?»

To his surprise, the other chuckled lowly. He backed off a bit to get a better look on Grimmjow’s face, to search those blue eyes of any sign of mischievous intentions, but he couldn’t find a single hint. He tilted his head a bit, questioning, and scowled down at the other.

«That’s a stupid question! But then, hey, look who’s asking!» Grimmjow snickered, while his hand trailed up Ichigo’s spine up to his neck.

It seemed as if his hands were on autopilot, that whole fucking body seemed to be on autopilot. But then, the reaction he got was interesting. The calloused and warm hand on his cheek trembled, then fingers curled up and nails teasingly softly scratched along his jaw. Closing the distance between them, obviously he had not only lost control over his hands, Grimmjow’s lips came closer to the others than ever. He searched his memories for what he should do next and maybe closing his lips on the Substitute’s half parted ones and kiss him would be appropriate, but instead, he snickered: «I’ve devoured countless souls, I don’t think I have a preference. What’s the saying, a ho... ».

He was caught by lips, soft and hot, eagerly pressed on his. An astonished gasp later a tongue was forced into his mouth, demanding and overwhelming. Instantly Grimmjow’s self-preservation-instinct kicked in; this felt way too much like other wanted to devour his soul. Probably he should have stick to his usual way to fight the Soul Reaper. He tried to back off but was held in place by the Substitute’s hands deeply buried in his scalp.

«Relax, you stupid idiot. It’s just a kiss!», Ichigo growled when he, realising the other went rigid, let go of Grimmjow. «One of those countless souls you’ve devoured surely remembers, don’t you think?».

The questioning, piercing glare from blue eyes, relieved him. At least he wasn’t the only one nervous. A genuine smile crossed his face upon that thought. He was probably as nervous as he was with his first kiss ever, and it was almost hilarious. Grimmjow surely wasn’t his first kiss, not even his first man.

Ichigo had a look on his face that clearly showed he was absentminded. It bothered him, Grimmjow realised. He wanted those eyes back on him, wanted them to focus on him, maybe even wanted those lips back on his own. But for sure he needed some relief more southward’s. He cursed himself for choosing such a tight pair of trousers, which were getting tighter and tighter the more he thought about what happened or might happen. It was as if Grimmjow’s initial flashback had opened a door to a very well hidden room, a room full of shamelessly detailed memories. The moment he had stepped into this room, so to speak, the instinctual behaviours had flooded his mind. Probably it wasn’t the Gigai at all who was on autopilot? He huffed in surrender, rolled his shoulders and used the forgetful state Ichigo was in as an advantage to fling the other, unceremoniously, from his lap and on to his back.

Hovering over the astonished Substitute, he placed one knee right between Ichigo’s legs, pried them open. One hand dived under the thin fabric of a blue shirt, while the other was used to support his weight, bending down and crashing his lips with the others. Now it was his tongue which demanded entrance, his time to devour the other in a demandingly kiss. It was surprising how flawless and willingly Ichigo welcomed him. He even wrapped one arm around his neck, pulled him closer and arched into his body.

But what astonished Grimmjow was his own response. Physical? Hell, there was no doubt he needed this. That stupid muscle humans called heart was galloping in his chest in a constant rhythm aligned with an almost painful throbbing in his pants. And the moans the other uttered just intensified his desires. He wasn’t quite sure, where this would lead them. Maybe nowhere. But he always was the one to seize the moment, to take the chance, shamelessly and with no regret. And what fun it was going to be to inflict all the dirty little things he remembered again on the Soul Reaper’s body. He just had forgotten how breathtaking, literally, a kiss could be. Suffocating even. With a disappointed sigh, he let go of the other’s lips and backed off a bit.

Ichigo buried all his fingers in that astonishingly soft blue scalp and locked the heavy panting idiot from getting too far away. Pulling his lips into a sassy grin he searched the other’s face and eyes.

«If I had known that a simple kiss would take your breath, I would have done this years ago!», Ichigo snickered while flinching lightly. Grimmjow’s hand had trailed from under his shirt to the waistband of his jeans. Surprisingly skilful fingers hooked under the thick fabric of his trousers and trailed from his pelvic bone to a bulging front. The same fingers nestled playfully with the button and flicked it open.

«Hmm, might be I would have killed you, years ago», the other hummed right beside his ear. A tongue snaked out, played with his earlobe, then bending further down, the Sexta’s lips suddenly caressed his neck. Ichigo could almost feel Grimmjow’s lips turning into his trademark grin, but was distracted by the hand diving into his underwear.

The pain, caused by teeth biting down on the crook of his neck and shoulder and the pleasure, caused by a thumb circling his dick’s head, almost erased his consciousness. He couldn’t hold back that whimper, even if it sounded pathetic in the other’s ears. Luckily, that Gigai’s teeth weren’t as sharp as Grimmjow’s usual rows of dents. Those canines would have drawn blood, for certain. Not that the fake teeth wouldn’t left a very obvious mark too.

But hey, two could play this game. He slung one leg around an astonishingly small waist and used the leverage to switch the places. His fingers linked with Grimmjow’s while he locked them right beside the blue-haired’s head. Bending down a bit, he rolled his hips.

«You haven’t brought a gift, wanna make up for it?», he whispered teasingly and was rewarded by a wide grin.

«One should be careful what he wishes for, he might get it,» the Sexta purred with a voice that promised both pain and pleasure the same time.


End file.
